Queen First
by Reality's Runaway
Summary: Artemisia finds drawing the line between Queen and Friend difficult; and containing a hypocritical secret becomes harder to hide.


Queen First

"Don't you remember me? I welcomed you into Troy on your first night here," said the tall, handsome warrior with a beard as dark as obsidian stone and curly hair to match.

Obelia laughed. "I assure you, I was quite drunk that night and I remember nothing. If I did happen to make advances, as you claim, I apologize—it will never happen again." She turned to look at Artemisia, rolling her eyes. This had become a regular occurrence since the Amazons' arrival in Troy. Men Artemisia remembered well from that evening, and men she did not recall at all, came up to them day and night asking if they wanted to go for a ride or a little romp in the empty palace rooms professing only amity—apparently no longer frightened of the women after their behavior upon their arrival into the city. The five Amazons always replied with an unequivocal "no" but the men continued nonetheless. Even Efterpi was becoming sick of the constant affections and attention.

"My god, do they not have any women in Troy?" she asked one day, running into the Amazons' quarters out of breath. "They exalt me as some mortal Aprhodite, which I must admit was quite nice for some time, but it is fast becoming ridiculous—and tiresome."

"That's what you get," Maia replied, cleaning her leather armor beside the window, her breast completely exposed, "for your behavior these past few days. Not to mention your métier happens to be attracting men, whether you mean to intentionally do so or not—ergo, your current problem."

"I always tried to be polite and not impugn their intentions or honor, but now I am left with no other choice than to pull out my dagger and dare them to ask me one more time. Just now one of them interpreted that as some sort of acquiescence—don't ask me how—and proceeded to chase me."

Artemisia perked up at this. The last thing they needed was for the men to know where their private quarters were.

"Where is he now?" she asked, glancing to see if the door was locked. After all, Zeva was completely nude in the bathwater, Maia was completely topless, so was Obelia, and as for herself, she was wearing little more than a strap of leather around her breasts and a towel around her waist.

"I left him doubled over in pain downstairs." The girl turned around anyway, as if reading Artemisia's thoughts, and locked the door.

All four of Artemisia's warriors were now in the room. They had shared few moments alone together since they arrived three days ago in Troy. At least one of them was always off sightseeing or exploring, another perhaps talking with Troy's leaders and advisors. Efterpi was usually working with the men in the armory, a diversion she was paying for dearly now. It seemed a good a time as any to make sure none of them had done anything foolish.

"If any of you three have done anything that would dishonor the Amazons in any way, or sully our reputation, I would like to know now, so I can kill you myself instead of letting some Achean make you pay for your crime," she demanded suddenly. She directed her question only at Zeva, Obelia, and Efterpi—Maia was Artemisia's closest companion and her guardian since her birth; she would more likely be charged for killing a man in Troy than sleeping with one. Not to mention she was thirty years old and her hard life and over a decade of hard fighting had taken their toll on her body. Maia was still impressive and beautiful in Artemisia's eyes, but she was not a radiant beauty like the other four women.

Trying to discern if she was speaking in jest, the three warriors looked up at their queen. Artemisia could not help but smile at their somewhat startled faces, but reiterated her point. "Have any of you taken a man?"

There was a moment of silence—Artemisia knew each one was debating what information to reveal and what would best be left unsaid.

"Does pleasuring one count?" Zeva raised her hand from the pool and inquired. She found the warm Trojan baths the best thing about the city, even above the men, and marinating in the steamy waters had become her new pastime.

"No," Artemisia said.

"Good, then you don't have to worry about me." She let her arm slip back into the water, her face expressionless, her eyes closed.

"You are becoming as bad as these Trojan whores, Zeva. What sort of pleasuring are we talking about here?" Maia questioned. Whenever Artemisia forgot to punish, Maia made sure to intervene and give correction.

"Oh, lighten up Maia," Zeva chuckled, waving off the animadversion, "it's nothing more than a bit of fun. And Paris quite enjoys it, too."

At this the other four women shouted in unison, "Paris?!"

"What are you thinking, you foolish woman?" Maia cried.

"What's he like? Oh, what's he like?" Efterpi squealed.

"Oh my Zeva, taking the place of Helen are we?" Obelia taunted.

Artemisia saw Helen's pretty, innocent face flash before her eyes and she had the immediate urge to slap Zeva upside the head. If she found out, Helen would be sorely disappointed in the Queen for bringing such loose, seductive women into Paris' reach. As she vacillated, trying to come up with a way to censure this behavior, yet not appear too stern, Zeva proceeded to reveal the details of her trysts with the prince.

"I have only done it thrice, Maia. Don't be so startled. And it wasn't even for very long. He just caught me by the arm and pulled me into a corner or behind the stables at night, kissing me before I could even react. When he asked me to do him a favor and I realized who it was, well, you can't blame me for jumping at the opportunity."

Obelia shook her head. "By the gods, where do you get your abundance of good fortune? The only person of mention who has tried to do that to me was Diomedes, that drunk fool. Behind the stables you say?"

Zeva nodded. "That's the place."

"I almost had Hector last night," Efterpi began, "but he admitted politely that his wife was waiting on him and he could not injure her. What a loyal husband. I did manage to get a nice kiss from him, and—"

Artemisia jumped to her feet, her shield banging loudly on the floor when it fell from her lap. She could not believe her women, both their disrespectful behavior and their flagrant disregard for the princesses of Troy.

"Have you forgotten who you are?" she shouted, not caring who heard, her voice full of anger and passion. "Do you even know where your allegiance lies? Has everything you have ever believed melted at the sight of these mere men? They are just men! Arrogant, selfish, lazy, pigs of men, yet you fools act as if they are the gods incarnate."

She paused for a moment to lower her voice slightly, rubbing her hands through her copper hair. She pointed to the east. "There is a tribe of Amazons back home who would murder you if they learned of your behavior, before I could do a thing to stop them. Neither one of you deserves the title of an Amazon. Neither one of you will call me your Queen unless you cease this madness. I will throw you over the walls myself as a little gift to the Acheans! Is that understood?"

Zeva's eyes were wide-open as she nodded. Artemisia was glad the woman realized this was not the time for witty remarks. Efterpi looked at her hands in shame, nodding, and Obelia did the same. They had just been harshly reminded who was in command and who had the ear of the gods. For a brief, introspective moment, the feeling that she was being too harsh niggled in the back of her mind—but she had to ignore it. She was their commander. It was her responsibility to keep the women in order. Friend second, Queen first.

    

Artemisia left early the next morning, wanting to get away, just as the first few rays of light were coming from the east, where her homeland lay. She walked quietly through the streets and alleys that would soon be too crowded to pass through. Despite being in the throes of a long war, Artemisia had noticed the Trojans were not living penurious lives. There was still a plentitude of rich and exotic foods and the markets were full of goods coming from the lands to the east and the Black Sea, the merchants shouting their prices at the break of dawn, generally waking the Amazons from their slumber. Troy seemed infallible, but she knew better. She could see it in the faces of the women in the shops, eyes red with tears; she could see it in the faces of the soldiers working long nights in the armory. Though the city appeared strong enough, it was a hollow façade. Troy would not last another year if the Acheans continued their onslaught—and it seemed certain that the bellicose imposters would.

Artemisia was careful not to wake her sleepy women this morning, leaving them snoring, dog-tired in their warm beds. She began to worry that if they happened to survive this war, she would never be able to convince them to return home. She could just imagine Efterpi complaining of the privation of Amazon life when she returned to sleeping on animal skins and relieving herself in the woods. The more she thought on it as she walked through the sleepy city, the more and more convinced she was that Efterpi would probably be better off in Troy anyway—she could think of precious few Amazons who would miss her.

Hector had kindly shown the Warrior Queen a secret passage out of the city that opened up to the bucolic Trojan villages, towards Amazon lands, in case of any sort of emergency. Using that tunnel, Artemisia wandered right under the walls of Troy and out into the wilderness. She did not want to tell her women where she was going exactly, but ordered that they be made aware of her departure for the day during breakfast. Her greatest fear was a sudden attack by the Acheans, but Hector believed the chances were slim that they would wish to fight in this dreary, rainy weather—both armies would much rather spend the time sleeping indoors. So, with a loaf of bread and some cheese and grapes, the she set out for a day on the coast.

She had long wanted to swim in and explore the coast of the Aegean, and it seemed such a quiet day would be perfect for the little journey. Maia would have enjoyed such a peaceful retreat from the clamor of the city, but if Maia was to come, she would have had to bring the other three along, too—they could not be trusted in Troy without some supervision, as Artemisia had so disturbingly found out yesterday afternoon. She walked south, through the thick woods, hoping to perhaps engage in a hunt or two—anything to get her mind off her women, the war, and another, rather awkward subject that had been plaguing her mind for the past few days.

_ Achilles_.

The fact that the mere though of him made her weak in the knees embarrassed her beyond belief. Last night at dinner, someone had mentioned his name and she nearly choked on a piece of meat, causing quite the scene. Obelia had to beat her half-to-death to dislodge the chunk from her throat, which went flying across the table, hitting King Priam square between the eyes and finally landing on his plate. If the King had not broken the stunned silence with a mighty laugh, Artemisia was sure she would have died of horror at her immense faux pas—even though no one knew the embarrassing cause of her ordeal in the first place.

If anyone ever discovered her darkest secret—a secret that was almost tantamount to treason with the current state of affairs between Troy and Greece—she was sure she would either be killed immediately, or sent back home in shame. In such an instance, Artemisia almost preferred the former. Only Maia would have been able to offer evidence in her defense in such a case; she was the one who told her about Achilles in the first place, and who threw the two together on Skyros and knew of their secret meetings. Maia was not one to be lectured about foolishness, but Artemisia was sure that introducing her to Achilles was the stupidest thing that woman ever did.

She walked quite a few miles further through the forest before turning east towards the coast. Achean ships had not been spotted recently moving past the Trojan beaches, but she did not want to take any chances and walked far south to avoid any wanderers. She could smell the water and the salty air even before she could see the ocean. What a relief it was to be so alone! When she walked out onto the beach, Artemisia immediately removed her sandals, letting her feet sink into the deep sand and savoring every minute of it. The gulls called out overhead and she screeched back; communicating with the animals was her mother's gift, and she had received a little bit of it herself. It was much more pleasant and comfortable to be with the animals than people, Artemisia found. As a child she had certainly earned the sobriquet "Birdhead" from the other Amazon girls, who found her to be too quiet and too solitary for their liking—and Zeva would still use the title when she felt she would not be punished for it.

There was not a ship to be seen anywhere along the horizon, nor anywhere along the coast, so the Warrior Queen felt certain it was safe to relax. She plopped down onto the sand, closing her eyes and stretching out under the overcast sky. The rain fell down lightly on her warm skin, bringing much welcomed relief. No thoughts, no words, no movements; just serenity in the sand.

"You are a bit far from Troy, Amazon Queen."

Artemisia shot up and pulled out her sword before she could think. Had the imposter not been swift enough to evade her stroke, he would have surely been sliced in two. And when Artemisia saw who it was, she wished she had been able to do away with him so innocently.

_ Achilles_.


End file.
